


Life in Midas

by licho



Series: Divergence: Ai no Kusabi Post-Canon [2]
Category: Ai no Kusabi
Genre: Androids, Artificial Intelligence, Artificial Womb, Clones, Computer Viruses, Dysgenics, Dystopia, M/M, Outside of Fandom Readable, Plot, Police Brutality, Post-Canon, Science Fiction, Surreal, Surveillance, clone characters - Freeform, killswitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-28 18:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18762286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/licho/pseuds/licho
Summary: A certain Blondie is set to deny Midas citizenship from a certain mongrel but for undisclosed reasons. Harvey's catastrophe had it's own subtle effect on the Lord of Midas.Takes place 20-30 years after the end of Ai no Kusabi.





	1. Wyrd

**Author's Note:**

> This is a single story split into a series of shorts, and this chapter is equivalently Chapter 5. [Prologue of Two Opposites](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715999) represents Chapters 1 to 4.

Midas was the tourist hotspot of Amoi that shone as the beacon from orbit. Appearing as terraces of metallic waves woven through the streets and painted by colored lights. Night and day had no difference, and the city availed all forms of entertainment suited to all tastes and preferences. A mere visa for a temporary stay was a status symbol of the galaxy.

The city had eight sectors--- Ceres, though autonomous, still held the designation of Area-9. Of the sequence from Area-1 to Area-9, Area-7 was missing. Reported to have been destroyed by the infrastructural failure of the neighboring Dana Bahn, the area was off-limits to tourists to begin with. The tragedy ultimately did little to demure Midas' status as the galaxy's Shangri-La. Beneath the many shrouded truths of Midas, was the fact that paradise and hell were one and the same.

In the early morning, Rye made his way to Midas. Another job from Katze--- something easy with a hefty payout for what it involved. In this case all that was asked of him was to plug a device into an arbitrary terminal at one of the many biotechnical facilities in Midas. He could tell he was supposed to upload some malicious software. The device handled everything just needing a pair of legs and a hand to get it to where it needs to be.

The real kicker was that the contract provided a forged ID for safe travel within Midas and trespassing the premises. Get it done fast and he can finally give Midas a real look around beyond that of the backstage.

Rye approached the border dividing Midas and Ceres. At a distance, he saw a scuffle between an older Midas man and a few Ceres youths.

"No! Please stop!" The man yelled with panic.

"Cross it, bitch!" One teen taunted.

"Yeah! Cross it!" Another added.

Rye stayed out of sight wanting to avoid gang nonsense, but he spectated to see the man avoiding a certain boundary at all costs.

He scoffed. "They look down upon us so much that just crossing the border disgusts them?"

Eventually the tugging of the teens overwhelmed the old man. As he lost balance, the other Cereian gave a hard shove. The man collapsed past the border, and the teens ran away as fast as they could. Shortly after, the man spasmed and shook as if he was having a seizure.

Rye's eyes widened. "Wait. What the hell is happening to him?"

Rye ran over to the Midas man and turned over the prone body. The man is dead. The skin was turned grey and shriveled as if man aged and rotted in the minutes between his collapse and death.

Sparing no chance with a contagion, Rye staggered back and threw off his gloves, abandoning the only things that contacted the corpse. It rolled prone again, but then he noticed a red light on the dead man's left ear blinking like a shimmering tip of a needle.

"What is that," Rye wondered. It was no more than a few millimeters in size.

He gave the corpse a final glance and was on his way.

* * *

Descending on the grav elevator, Raoul again accompanied Icarus.

"Is there a reason why you hesitate on acquiring a Pet?" Raoul raised.

Raoul saw that Icarus' only response was to slightly lower the upper eyelids.

Such prodding seemed to annoy Icarus, but Raoul wanted to gauge the familiar predicament. Iason had been thoroughly bored of moronic nymphomaniacs. Terribly so, to take the pick of a slum mongrel then endure scandal and controversy as though the novelty of complete subservience had worn off entirely. And now Raoul suspects the body replacement's intentions already parallel such sentiments.

It's been years since Icarus said he'd take a Pet--- an outrageous pick of a slum mongrel, but a slum mongrel never came to Eos.

"Don't want to talk about it, I see," Raoul sighed.

"Not a topic deserving of commentary. That is all."

"Then know that Pet ownership is a duty. There is only so much your relative youth can do to excuse you from that."

_A duty?_ Icarus would've scoffed, but he held his breath. _A fashion accessory kept around for at most two or so years. To accomplish what?_

The grav elevator stopped.

"It's been placing undue attention on you. If you're at least browsing, that should ease some of the gossip."

Icarus' eyes drifted upward in thought then back. "I see. Then I can agree to that."

"How delightful. Did I overhear a shopping trip?" Orphe, stepping in the elevator with Silbert, spoke with casual, feigned enthusiasm. "Spare me his choice in Pets as I've spared myself his choice in Furniture?"

"You're no judge of male Pets, Raoul. Perhaps you can spare them your choice as well," Silbert pessimistically commented.

"I'm not so blunt to recommend a female imitator to him."

Icarus only silently spectated Raoul and Silbert's conversation.

* * *

"Done in a cinch," Rye said to himself. The usual procedure for the jobs was that the device self-wiped it's contents and rendered itself useless. He tossed it to the public trash can.

At the end of the day, as the late afternoon faded into the evening, for the first time, Rye walked freely in Midas. The fake ID allowed him to be less cautious though in time he'd have to give it back to Katze. No sneaking around, hiding in the alleyways, or getting tensed up around every patrol.

Midas from the streets and not from the rooftops, he saw the pedestrians.

A tourist group in foreign clothing and matching pale green skin tones walked together.

Another had grey skin, face masks, and what appeared to be scales embedded in their cheeks.

And another had pointed ears.

Odd variants of humans spread throughout the galaxy seemed to gather in Midas. Never did he see himself as so ordinary before. A peachy skin tone compared to the tourists, the narrow Amoian nose bridge, and a more or less "ordinary" facial structure definitively made him a native of the planet- the only thing that would cast doubt being his black hair.

As he roamed the upper walkways, across the street he saw aerocars and limousines landing to the front of the building. From the curb to the stairs to the entrance, a red carpet trailed with crowds to its side. With a curious tilt of the head, he looked on to see what kind of people walked the carpet.

The first aerocar that landed had a well-dressed man followed by an equally well-dressed woman decorated in jewelry. She affectionately leaned on his shoulder as they made their way to the doors. Women were virtually non-existent in Ceres outside of Guardian, but one as an age-matched exclusive partner even in Midas wasn't a very common sight.

The second vehicle that came by was a limousine of an alloy that put diamond and platinum to shame. With a shine of reflected light, it gave a chrome aura as if it were vehicle sized jewelry. The lustre had both white and black, and in between had the warped reflections of the city.

A service android opened the door for the passengers.

A tall man wearing highfalutin Midas clothing emerged first, followed by two blonds of the same height. Unmistakably the latter wore the fashion of Tanagura's androids- long hair, a cloak with trims, and a modest blend of contemporary materials and classical designs from an era in the distant past. The three stood an inch or two above the tallest in the crowd and walked together as if in close association.

Very eagerly, the crowd reached to shake hands with the blond wearing a black hairband, to which he accepted as he walked. The other blond seemed to politely decline those who sought his audience. The brunet had a nonchalant stroll as if he enjoyed his non-involvement with the crowd.

Tanagura androids. If seeing one was a once in a lifetime chance then somehow luck had Rye see three different ones in total. He looked on, but was interrupted.

* * *

"I suppose its usual for you to frown, but you could at least look less displeased," Raoul said to Icarus in the lobby.

"You don't need to make such a drab appearance in Mistral either," Gideon added with a gesture of casual maintenance hovering over his hairband.

"I'm adequate."

Two Blondies, and Icarus who again donned a guise of a short haired brunet in upper class Midas clothing out of habit. Because they stood together at a similar height, and wore data visors, the crowd began to correctly deduce Icarus' affiliation with Raoul and Gideon.

As if the establishment were a gallery of living artworks, wealthy tourists and citizens looked at the Pets on display. A biomanufactuered product, sometimes costumed, posed on display with props of varying themes. The tanks that contained them were large enough to house a small rock garden or miniature replicas of a ruined colosseum. To some tourists, these scenes were assets in the cultural wealth of Amoi, and Midas' unique touch in blending fiction and reality.

Green, blue, pink, purple, and all unnatural shades of hair and eye pigment phenotypes were given the same florid descriptions to expect from fashion and cosmetic products. The markets for genetic engineering and biomanufactuering was very well supported, and every effort was made to make one's purchase satisfactory.

But Icarus looked at the visuals on visors mainly browsing through documents. The time tables for events, and the current time meant he had to be in Midas for some hours. However one thing caught his attention and had him wander off from Raoul and Gideon.

The job he forwarded to Katze earlier--- the operative, rather his oft-hired and personally deployed marksman, appeared to be in the same coordinates as he was. Precision of the general area narrowed down to the vicinity showed it was the same building.

Checking the positional history of the ID issued for the job, the operative made turns and swerves around the city. Wandering about after completing the contract, but abruptly stopped then beelined to a Pet Auction House a fair distance away.

The context of movements--- this obviously wasn't a perverse curiosity on Pets. The ID was whitelisted among law enforcement, but wasn't going to fool the background checks of a private establishment with both local and extrastellar patrons. And there would certainly be an interest once the dealers found the hair color wasn't some edgy dye job.

_This... this is bad._

On another floor, Gideon walked with Raoul.

Hand on hip, Gideon noticed Icarus' absence. "Now where has he wandered off to?"

"Do you think he snuck out?"

"Nonsense. We can probably find him around one of the exhibits on the lower floor."

Meanwhile Icarus stood with a service android.

"Not now," Icarus said hurriedly, fully knowing the two would look for him and be on their way. "I'll get him later."

The android nodded in affirmation before taking it's leave.

Raoul and Gideon walked through hallways and crowds towards a sector Icarus would be in. Spotting Icarus, Gideon called, "Ah there you are."

Icarus stood next to a large cylindrical terrarium that connected the ground and ceiling.

"Figures, you'd be around such an exhibit," Raoul commented.

"Not to mention being so disinterested in the actual subject of it," Gideon gave a small laugh and pointed.

As it turned out, Icarus had been ignoring a female Pet posing on display, lounging above on a carved branch in a contrived pose that emphasized her hips and breasts. In truth, he hadn't been standing near her for long, but a nearly nude female figure covered by thin strips of fabric that could be pierced by the light wasn't an oversight he was going to explain.

"It's not common to promote males with a botanical theme in these exhibits," Gideon continued with smirk. "Perhaps something can be arranged if you make an appearance as a guest of honor." He pointed to the ends of Icarus' hair and downward, suggesting Icarus to relengthen his hair and revert it to the usual colors.

Raoul offered slight reassurance on the assumed matter. "Some day, I'm sure, Jupiter will allow you offworld to tour fully terraformed planets. Such things truly are the rare gems of the galaxy."

"You certainly have an unusual case in being barred still," Gideon added.

* * *

"Shit. Where am I?"

Rye ended up in a compact, dull, grey room just large enough to stand and walk in with minimal ambient light--- the simplicity at first was nothing to be bothered by. Until time had passed, a stagnation of sight and sound became eerily apparent.

No residual pain of a bonk on the head and the sight of such a place came in the blink of an eye.

"It can't just be like this," Rye said in desperate panic.

He gave a testing knock on a wall. Then a harder bang. There was only the uniform texture of grey rustless metal and no indication of an entrance or exit--- only four uncompromising walls.

_Are there even air holes?_

_How the hell did I get in here?!_

Rye incessantly hit the walls for anything that'd give the rattle of a thin metal door even though he was hitting spots he's already tried multiple times. His knocking became more fervent, and very shortly after two androids opened a door adjacent to Rye and promptly tased him.

* * *

In a theater was the auction, at the loge was Raoul, Gideon, and Icarus. Raoul, Chief Biotechnology Specialist, looked upon the stage, pleased at the fruits of his efforts and research--- the blueprint of humanity laid bare and his to mold, the prized being cast in the spotlight for sale, and the awe of the audience. Gideon, the Lord of Midas, was visibly content--- the wealth of his city, and the loyalty of his subjects. Icarus, making an appearance as a civilian, sat with arms and legs crossed, mainly to wait out the event, and ignored all lots.

But back at the lobby before the indoor junction, he said the unexpected, "You two go on ahead."

"That's curious," Gideon commented.

"I'm making a trip to the Arboretum before heading back. I'll arrange transportation on my own."

Icarus waited for Raoul and Gideon to leave the lobby and disappear from the corner, then he picked up the merchandise.

He didn't believe it would be like this. Not until holding leash in hand to a very heavily sedated individual did the idea of owning a Pet starkly trigger his sense of incredulity. _This can't be standard procedure..._

Already standing next to such a being--- to whom a proper standing posture was a barely accomplished burden--- Icarus gave a testing tug.

The slouching figure absentmindedly walked closer to his side with the obedience of an automaton. This behavior didn't exactly help, but atleast he wore normal clothing, albeit of the composite materials of salvaged denim and wool used in Ceres.

"There is no way I'm going back like this," Icarus commented.

Icarus could just imagine it now. The best explanation of his situation was that he bailed out one of Katze's employees that in the worst case would've been abducted offworld. Yet that detail would be entirely overridden by a Pet collar and leash.

A reputation preceded him--- someone else's reputation. Despite his merits, for his actions that were at worst sparks, he caught flame then fire like a catalyst for controversy. Why precisely in many cases, he wasn't yet aware of. A precedent cast him before peers in Eos as the amnesiac recidivist before the same judge and jury.

Yet it appears he held true to the word made in jest on the start of his adulthood. The mere statement of him getting a Pet would certainly incite something, but he had a plan to deaden the news and allow hype to stagnate.


	2. Benign

Every time he had opened his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar place. Somewhere far larger than a jail cell or a flat in Ceres. Decorated walls, ornate furniture, glass and marble, and a haze of memories, Rye recalled some things that explained where he was and why.

The cold sting of a metal barb.

Then every muscle involuntarily tensed in a spark of pain.

A tug on his neck, then a long walk away.

"That is your ID," a voice so absent of life and emotion that it teetered the border of human speech and android phonation.

A platinum ring encasing a small blue jewel.

"This is where you are staying."

A Midas condominium.

"Use this if you get lost."

A personal data slate.

All of these he accepted in unsteady consciousness and under the wax and wane of dense brain fog. And after, a pair of gloved hands removed collar and chain from him.

The only thing he'd done was watch people walk out of aerocars and limousines, but being close enough to some fancy place, the fake ID he carried probably failed some background check. His complete absence of a legitimate one as a Cereian was every legal okay for whatever to happen to him. Just that questionable luck had the compromise of Pet traders and not the police catch him.

Ceres "knew" what Pets were. There was no shortage of gossip stemming from the older guys who bragged about the days of their youth--- border hopping, pickpocketing, openly walking the streets, and window shopping. Nowadays, circulating tidbits had that Pets lived the high life of being treated by wealthy citizens. Ample food, a warm bed, high class booze just for keeping some rich bastard company were all anyone ever talked about.

Most others in his position would've bounced in joy as if they married into wealth like a pipe dream come true. But thoroughly bound by lethargy and muscles burned by convulsions, Rye remained collapsed on the couch, only managing to twitch a finger every now and then. The same motion reminded him the weight of a metal band he now wore and bound a common fantasy into reality. Whatever he had been tranqed with still hit him like a bitch slap to the brain and was beyond overkill.

* * *

At his office, Icarus reviewed exfiltrated security footage.

Two men in an office appeared to be negotiating.

"My clients are looking for a custom flowering species", he said as he passed documents. "Soil sample, star luminosity, and climate reports included."

"Just by these reports, I recognize it's my home planet," the man at the desk gave a cursory scan. "Very nice."

"It's for a terraforming effort. We have ecological reports included as well."

"Looks like we have everything we need. We'll take it."

"Just to make sure. No wind pollination please, as specified in the second document."

"Of course."

Another camera oversaw two scientists in a laboratory.

One held a clipboard. "Sir, all embryos pass maternity and paternity tests."

"Good. Start gestation and everything will be right on schedule."

On the lower floor, a team of technicians appeared to be performing maintenance on artificial wombs.

"Hey." A technician sitting next to a unit's opened panel called to the other. "Go over the firmware checksums for these synthesizers. This one is different."

The other went over to the terminal. "All of them are. Heck, they've been like this for the past fifty years."

"Old piece of junk. We can't just reflash these either."

A third technician rolled out from underneath machinery. "Eh? The lab guys didn't say anything about 'em. Maybe we can just leave it."

"Are you crazy? Decommission these. Standard procedure."

Icarus leaned back with a sigh and hand on his head. "Inconclusive thus far."

No pattern or context behind the appearance of these clones either.

Conveniently Rye was tagged and profiled by Pet traders as a part of his registration. Just as expected, in Icarus' file system, there were two other records of Pets with the same genetic sequence. The original lived generations ago and is certainly long dead. Between the two clones, Rye better resembled the original in terms of height and skin tone--- a the result of night shift work and more or less stable employment in the black market. Nonetheless, the living conditions would not be as ideal as being raised in Tanagura.

However, Iason never submitted either for cloning or breeding. Somewhere on the planet, there was an unauthorized cloning operation. Someone decided to clone the leader of an old independence movement. But if it were a foreign power, a joke gone unnoticed, no one lodged a protest that such a figurehead of humanity's last rebellion had been under the employ of a Tanagura Blondie.

Who had done such a thing could've been from any star in the night sky.

Thus he pondered on more immediate matters. He issued an ID, but it wasn't a Pet ID despite being encased in the luxury model often given to Pets, neither was it Midas citizenship. To his credit, he thoroughly reviewed law before doing what he did, but there was no real precedence for that.

When he had stepped out his office and walked in Eos, he came across Gideon and Silbert walking together in the opposite flow.

With a smile, Gideon stopped and rose conversation. "Icarus, you've bought a Pet?"

Gideon understandably would be the first to notice such a transaction.

Icarus, reticent, only turned his head to Gideon.

From behind Gideon, Silbert tilted his head and arched a brow.

"There's no hiding it," Gideon tried to lighten the mood. "Is it male or female?"

"Considering the choices in the past, that's no mystery," Silbert dismissed and led Gideon away.

Icarus didn't believe there was much Silbert could ultimately do to contain gossip from Gideon.

* * *

Icarus paused before putting hand on door to the condominium suite.

One thought had the concern that Pet dealers accidentally issued a lethal dose, and he'd open the door to a corpse.

The other thought entertained the possibility of the slum mongrel escaping and fencing off the small items it had been given.

...

"Use this if you get lost," Icarus said as he handed a common personal computing device.

The silent Cereian had the docile stare of unevenly dilated pupils, and slowly motioned to take it, in which enough time had passed for Icarus to begin assuming it would be dropped moments after.

When he rose concern rose to the dealers, they've only stated it was the standard dosage issued to Pets of the same body mass. Such effects projected to last for at most an hour seemed to persist to multiple ones for whatever reason.

There is no sense hesitating now. He opened the door.

"You." Rye craned up from the couch and supported himself with a locked elbow. A hoarse voice and a loud whisper of rising wakefulness rose to normal speech. "The fuck was that shit. It's fucking murder." Rye's head ducked into his hand.

Icarus warily stared as he walked in. "I see you are yourself?"

"Yeah. My-fucking-self. I wouldn't be stuck to the couch if I was."

The next thing Rye knew, a glass of water was held neck level to him. Behind it was the standing figure holding it out to him warped by glass and water.

"Consider yourself a guest," Icarus offered.

_This voice. This guy can't be human._ Rye took the glass by hand and drank; his crankiness cooled. "Yeah. Thanks. So what do I do here? Lick your shoes clean, or what?"

"That would be suboptimal," Icarus said with an unnoticed frown.

Rye turned his head to look at who he was speaking to and saw it was that Blondie android. "What the. You. I owe you for that fall."

"Yes?"

"Well, what? Just crash here and eat food?" _I'd be fine with the android never coming for the dues or not really caring. But I'm not just going to live at its expense._

Rye for once had a good look at the Blondie's face. No daze of whiplash. No sedatives, and awake.

Blue eyes. Light blond hair. The face could be described as angelic as if the machines carved themselves out after the highest ideals of human appearance. All facets were as if they were meticulously sculpted by an artist to be the most beautiful possible at every viewing angle. A face that charmed both men and women, whether from Amoi or offworld.

_This android... this android is really hot._ The usual method of repaying a favor in the slums suddenly didn't sound terrible. But Rye was certain that Blondie androids weren't made for sex, and having one oblige to be a sex android was out of the realm of possibility. If this one had passing natural movement, there could've been an awkward mistake.

"What am I thinking," Rye sighed.

"It'd be undesirable if you starved. Did you have something in mind?"

"Not really."

"Just stay out of trouble," Icarus said. "Perhaps you could keep the unit more orderly while you're at it." He stood to take his leave, and at the door gave his ending note. "I'll visit on occasion to check on you."

As the android left, Rye stared on as all other details became apparent. The slim profile, broad shoulders, and tall height--- everything about this android was superidealized. From that, came the clash of expectations and the apparent sensibilities of the machine tyrants.

"So I'm room service? Not a bad deal really."

At first glance, looking at the suite--- it looked nice. Rye almost couldn't tell what Icarus meant by keeping the unit more orderly. Automated systems kept most surfaces sanitary, though putting some thought in to it, it was obvious that someone used to live here and didn't anymore on short notice.

Walking by the kitchen, he noticed an empty egg carton on the counter which would just be something to toss in the garbage. However when he picked it up and saw the packaging and sold-at timestamp, it, among other food items held in stasis, was dated over two decades ago.


	3. Residues of the Past

One day in Eos, Orphe returned from the spaceport and a diplomatic mission. Upon his entrance to tower lobby, two fellow Blondies, Haynes and Hubert joined him.

"Orphe, you've been quite occupied with your duties lately," Haynes remarked.

Orphe gave a sigh of exhaustion. "Yes I have. Ambassador is quite the demanding new position. Iason truly upheld a tenuous peace- I'm not sure at all how he has the energy for much of his other responsibilities."

"Steel yourself, Orpheus. Amoi needs you," Hubert said.

"Orphe! Haynes! Hubert!" The call of a child from a distance, came running a small blond boy that appeared to stand no taller than their knees.

"Meet my friend!" The boy out held an ursine plush toy.

Haynes gestured to Hubert, and both of them took their leave.

Their backs turned like a door slammed shut. The boy briefly looked in their direction parsing their intent and whether he done something wrong before turning his attention back to Orphe, who remained.

Again, the boy out held his new toy in a contrived upward reach to make sure his older brother could see.

...

"He might be of age now," Orphe whose hand paused in the middle of combing his hair with his fingers. "But I don't quite imagine such a thing happening actually."

Silbert held his word, spectating Gideon and Orphe's conversation.

"No Pet check-in to Eos or medical examinations from him?"

"That much I'm aware."

"I think I know where his Pet may be then."

* * *

"Thanks, man," Rye waved to the cashier at the counter of a fast food place. With a bagged meal in one hand, and a drink in the other, he walked to the exit.

After he closed the door behind him, he was surrounded by iron gates bolted to the ground surrounding the entrance in a box. He turned back to the door he left from, and there was neither door or building, but the same gates and a sign with the words: "You are here forever."

On impulse, Rye tore the sign down.

But immediately afterwards, the colors of the world muted to gray then decontrasted to the very tint that was of the place he was trapped in.

Again he pounded on one wall, and the small room tumbled and broke open like a cardboard box stranded in a dark abyss that would've been breached by city lights and stars if he were outside.

A familiar voice behind him said with a facetious woe. "Aren't you coming to bed?"

Rye turned his head.

On a king sized bed was the Blondie android unclothed and covered waist down by blankets, baring the physique hidden under layers of clothing. Every natural detail seemed to be there and poking through a thin layer of synthetic skin. Not mere imitation by metal plating and muscle fibres--- the form of a perfect man embodied by an android; and the actual man, at best a lucky result of chance.

"Don't you know it's cold tonight?" The android gave a pout, tracing circles on the empty spot of the bed before it.

_There's no way._

Rye was no longer holding bagged meal and drink in his hands, but a red cat in his arms.

_What._

He held out the cat in front of him. Looking face-to-face, the cat dully stated with a trailing sigh, "I could really use a smoke right about now..."

_What the fuck is going on?_

The android laid back into the pillow with both arms behind its head. "What are you waiting for?"

_I--- what--- what do I do?_

Rye's eyes shot open. He woke on the couch again. "Just a crazy dream."

This time the soreness from being tased worn off. After he sat himself up, he gave a pause. A dig through his pockets yielded the fake ID he carried for Katze's job the day before. "Shit. I need to give this back."

A lazy hand slapped and probed the table for the data slate. When he stumbled upon one among the piles of junk, he checked the map of the city and where he was.

Dead center of the city with a direct aerocar lane to the main gate of Tanagura--- Ceres was in the far west. To the north of it, there was a sector named Harvey.

"What the? There isn't anything there."

The file's timestamp, again like the food items in stasis, over two decades ago.

"I've got five minutes. Let's see what's up."

An online encyclopedia entry stated Harvey was destroyed by infrastructural failure resulting from an explosion at Dana-Bahn. Something he wasn't quite aware of either.

A wandering mind, and a cheap effort of a click- a search of Dana-Bahn redirected to Midas' recount of Ceres' history. A colony founded from a brief civilian revolt, resolved by a deletion of insurrectors' residency records. In the absence of a leader, the movement lacked clear direction and was led by hysteria. Afterwards, Ceres fell to a destitute condition by lack of civil planning and unsustainable ideals.

Rye sighed. "Whatever."

He closed his eyes, a hand covering them, for a brief catnap.

One eye opened, peered through his fingers to the small table in front of the couch. There was another data slate being the exact model Icarus had given him, and in Rye's hands was an older version.


	4. Human Error I

Far too distant to just go to Ceres by walking, Rye hitched a ride on one of the car drones that made routes around Midas. Free transportation that made its return on investment by routing through business dense areas and by ferrying cargo, the trip took much longer than it would've if it went straight to a destination as a taxi would. Being in a car drone in Midas gave a different view of things.

Midas perched at an elevation above Ceres. Like a long dress that shouldn't touch the ground, Midas spared no chance and lifted the ends of her skirt away from the abscess that was Ceres. On one side of the border was a living city with the glow of health and traffic that flowed like fresh blood. The other side appeared as a dilapidated shell of its former self with unmaintained infrastructure as if it were populated by squatters and none of the original architects.

Between border and the neighboring sector, Mistral (Area-3), there was a wide buffer zone--- an empty expanse--- and a marked red zone of no-go for tourists at the city limits. The closest the car drone would go, not very if even at all, was a large plaza.

The morning already became afternoon, and Rye walked the rest of the way to the border. Flying over his head, this wasn't an act that had no suspicion to it, and neither did a legitimate ID absolve him.

From behind him, he heard running footsteps and a shout. "Halt."

Turning his head, he saw a squad of police officers, but in uniform that was everything short of the militarized division that would interdict for most things he had done.

Regardless, the first instinct was to run. No matter how hard of a fuck up there was to be had in Midas, crossing the border back was a miscreant's home run. Two legs better than most others, Rye ran and increased the gap between him and the officers. When the invisible line had been crossed, the only thing the officers did, toe at the line, was stare intently at him disappearing to the distance.

Katze at his office worked on a multi-monitor hologram-terminal. On one screen, there was a radar. In this case, two markers were moving together and heading towards his office. One was the fake ID that Rye was issued to carry during a job. Curiously, the other was an unanticipated legitimate ID that threw out all expectations on the nature of the visit.

He turned off the displays. For the absolute worst case scenario, he opened a drawer on his desk, took out a pistol, loaded it, placed it in an inner pocket of his suit. A finger as ready to flip the safety off as the hand that would draw the gun, his profile faced the door and he waited for it to open.

When it did, there was Rye, with no one following, who seemed to be coming down from a rush. "Katze. Job's done."

Katze quietly stared with a hand in his suit pocket.

Rye placed fake ID on the desk. _Katze looks like he was about to pull out another pack to smoke._

"I already know the job's done, but you sure took that thing for a joyride."

"Not really," Rye couldn't put the right words together for an explanation.

"It's been two days."

"Weird things happened. I can't go into detail."

Inquiring no more, Katze took out an envelope that was Rye's payment. As usual, he took it and left, with the exception that Katze hadn't pulled out a cigarette to smoke.

* * *

Rye muttered under this breath, "Shit. Katze is mad isn't he." Katze always had a straight face, and never gave any easy tells.

Rye, back at his flat again, took some of his stuff to bring back. A cash card loaded enough to live on for a few weeks plus extra in case everything in Midas was more expensive--- if he needed anything more, just another trip back would do.

The condominium could be an easy come and easy go deal. Who knows how long an android's "whimsy" really lasted and precisely what inhuman thought process goes on in it's head was beyond him, but he was going to make use of what chance he currently had.

Late afternoon of dimming starlight, heading back now would likely be in time for if and when that android will show. Every other time, sneaking through the border was an usual thing to do. Even while carrying a weapon or a satchel of narcotics, it was a cakewalk and a routine. Most cases, the biggest effort the average Cereian had to do was put on their best clothes, nothing too ragged or characteristic to the slums, then make a inconspicuous stroll. Unlike any other, this was a return trip to Midas.

Rye had the mind not to go through the same junction where the police were left at. But his misfortune, despite doing the usual to dodge patrols, was to encounter the police again.

Two officers by their aerocar and Rye's hands cuffed behind his back.

"Mate, I know it wasn't my shift, but y'say this lad ran to Ceres," an officer said to another.

"Quite sure," an officer, with dull green hair like a layer of moss, said. "I'd be dumb if I completely forgot a bloke with black hair, and here of all places."

 _These guys sure sound dumb to me._ For the most part, neither officers seemed to pay attention to Rye fidgeting with the cuffs.

"Since when did the mongrels have the cash to spare for hair coloring?"

"More like munching on bootleg Gazer. Real matter of the issue was a murder from two days ago."

The officer gave a sigh of disbelief. "Alright, hold still lad. We're doing a manual ID check." He reached for Rye's left ear, and felt nothing. "Well, what do you know. No PAM chip!"

A swift kick came to Rye's abdomen in the next moment causing him to drop his shim to the ground. "Fuck."

The other officer joined with swings of a baton until Rye fell to the ground. "Now that I think about it. How's he making a beep on the sensors without a PAM chip?"

Rye rolled his body face down and waved his hand. "My ID. Here. It's on my finger."

The officers looked at each other and gave it a scan. It was legitimate, but their reaction was also in complete disbelief. "You're coming with us."

* * *

Entering the police station just before being sent to detention, a bald, portly officer at a desk gave him a hard stare of annoyance, undecided whether Rye was a complete idiot or someone at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"These are yours," the officer said before barehandedly tossing back a pair of gloves, the same ones abandoned in fear of a pathogen.

_Shit. I guess I'm prime suspect now._

Rye was then escorted to detainment, where he simply sat on the cell's bed.

_This is a first. But this place makes more sense than a free condo..._

Lately this had been the only realistic thing that had happened. Even if a jail cell made more sense than a condominium, boredom inevitably set in. He didn't carry much else with him. The only thing left to do was to fiddle with the ring on his finger.

Amazingly, the ring automatically adjusted to size. It was mobile when the bearer wanted it to move, but secure without leaving marks on the skin underneath after long-term wear. It was some strange merge of craftsmanship and nanotechnology that no one from the slums would have a chance in seeing firsthand.

The last thing he expected was the jewel inlaid to respond to gestures. On a poke, the deep blue gem turned to sea green crystal encasing clouds blown in the wind. On other varieties of motions, it turned red, back to blue, retracted into an oval or snapped back to a circle.

Whatever meaning this had, Rye could only guess that the wealthy who afforded this kind of accessory had spontaneous flips over what color their jewelry should be and wanted it to be adjustable on the spot. It made all sense given the similar spontaneous changes in colored lighting flashing around Midas.

Meanwhile, Icarus returned to his residence from work.

At the door, a shorter young man with red hair and copper streaks greeted with a bow. "Welcome home."

The usual routine--- the Furniture took Icarus' coat. Icarus would remove his ring, then his gloves, put on a new pair, then put the ring back on. But this time, the ring wouldn't come off, and he already made a few budges that in every other case would be enough.

"Is something wrong, my Lord?" it asked.

Not wasting any more time with malfunctioning jewelry, Icarus pulled off his glove by the tips. Holding it in front of him, a glove-finger dangled and the ring now clenched to the fabric, as opposed to slipping off, and rapidly flashed different colors.

He dropped the glove to the Furniture's hand. "Scrap this unit. It's faulty."

"Is there anything else I may do for you?"

"No, that'll be all, Tyler." Icarus put on a new pair of gloves.


	5. Counterweight

Maybe an hour had passed; Rye wasn't sure. Boredom made time pass slowly, or monotony made it pass faster. He idled laying down and stared at the ceiling.

A guard came by and opened the jail door. "We just got word from up high to let you go. Stay out of trouble next time."

Rye walked out of the police station. The star already set and left a trail of fading light behind the horizon. He waited for and got in a car drone to make his way back. The mercy of fate had the ride from the police and his detainment add up to about the same amount of time it'd take to get from the border to where he currently was.

"Weird fucking city," he said under his breath as he set the destination on the dashboard.

In Eos, Icarus stepped out of his residence to the lobby of the Apex Level. Like all automatic lighting systems in Tanagura, there was a careful balance of visibility--- not too strong of an illumination to shoo away the moonlight and shadow from the windows, but not too dark to inconvenience visibility for the Furniture that routed around Eos. Stars visible during the night of Tanagura, the polished floor reflected a faint view of the galaxy like water in a still lake.

Before he got to the grav elevators, Gideon called to him; "Icarus, do you have a moment?"

"Yes. What's the matter?"

Gideon crossed his arms. "Just what do you think you are doing in Midas."

"Pardon?"

"You stable a Pet in Apatia. Why is that?"

"If I own a suite and a Pet, does it not make sense to keep a living being in a living space?"

Gideon frowned. "Don't joke around like that. Bring him to Eos immediately."

"There is no joke."

An annoyed audible exhale came from Gideon. "I have no time to argue about this." He wove off and left in hurry.

_Why is he so concerned? This isn't usual..._

Icarus headed towards the grav elevator to descend from residential to the aerocar hangar. From the elevator he saw the haze of bleeding light from Midas below. Between the main gate of Tanagura to center of Midas was a straight lane of traffic that connected Eos, the palace tower, and Apatia, the condominium.

"Apatia, that much is true," Icarus admitted.

* * *

Rye got back to the suite. For once entering the bedroom, he looked through the closet.

"Better clothes," he thought. "Maybe that way the police won't just beat my ass on spot."

Coincidentally, the clothes were fitting. The first change was to a blue buttoned shirt common in Midas. A stark contrast to the slums that had a take-it-or-leave it attitude of goods that were hand-me-downs, salvaged, or at best stolen and pawned, the make and quality of Midas clothing was as though it went through every effort to please the customer. That much was clear just by placing his arms through the sleeves, against his skin were interiors made of a silky material that felt good to wear.

Upon a glance on his own torso, he noticed bruises. The fucker with the baton got him good, and the kick was no joke. Each mark was like a waiting landmine of pain.

Just as he stepped out to one of the mirrors to better inspect his injuries, he caught the Blondie android sitting on the couch like a statue that suddenly appeared from nowhere. Noticing his presence, it turned to him with a glide of unnatural movement.

Breaking the eerie silence, Rye spoke up, "Well, how was your day? I had a fucking fantastic day with the police."

He continued buttoning up the shirt. "I tell ya, I haven't done anything and I still got my ass beat. The dumb shits started before I showed them ID."

Icarus caught a glance at a Rye's injuries--- definite proof of an encounter.

Rye crashed on the couch next to Icarus. He tilted his head back and rose a hand to his forehead. "No sense in bitching more about it."

Though it wasn't noticed, a small smile rose in Icarus' face.

The end of his visit he was charmed, but as he made his return to Tanagura that feeling had a certain counterweight to it.


	6. The World's Eyes and Ears I

Night time, Silbert, with his hair cropped and colored brown, in civilian clothing drove an aerocar with teenaged Icarus in the passenger seat. When the car approached the coordinates Icarus requested, the car landed.

Silbert gave a look around the vicinity. There was one building, and the rest of the city a fair driving distance away. "This is quite the remote area of Midas. What are you planning?"

"This is one of Katze's compounds." Icarus got out of the car, walked some units away, then stopped at a distance out of any voice command module's hearing range.

Silbert followed.

"You promise not to tell anyone, correct?" Icarus said.

Behind Silbert's reflective visors was a casual but certainly keen scrutiny combined with experience of the ages that'd pierce any façade the teen could put up, but there was none and a legitimate disquietude.

"Correct."

"Silbert, what if I told you the procedure makes me nervous?"

Neither ridicule or sympathy, Silbert briefly paused before responding. "It's not something you will be conscious for. Since the time is nearing, I have some words of advice."

Icarus honed in.

"Don't be a public figure if you don't have to be."

Icarus nodded.

"My title is Chief of Espionage. Take my advice as you will."

As Silbert seemed to tilt his head down to a sigh, over going such a long ways over such a trivial matter, Icarus snuck a cautious step back, faint enough not to alert Silbert's ears.

Then a second. It was now or never.

Then westward he dashed to a full sprint.

As he ran he thought of the future he'd have outside of Eos and whether it was the right move. A bizarrely tall height for his age, platinum blond hair that reflected the moonlight would certainly stand him out, no camouflage amongst the common populace--- if he were amongst a crowd, the search teams would easily find him. But what little alternative he was offered, he took the chance of whatever fate would have in store for a juvenile without adult supervision, and to have for him specifically if he was forcefully returned.

The rationale was that even in the worst case scenario, in the hypothetical retrospection, the fact he tried was reassurance in itself.

As the city lights became more distant, the black expanse became ever more foreboding like the sky coating the ground. But instead of the twin moons, he saw a marble--- the same orange and white striped marble with a red spot he played with in his earlier years--- then a pack of black dogs coming his way.

"Woof!" The supposed pack leader stopped to greet, and the others stopped in its tracks.

Another dog barked. "You should come with us!"

"Yus!" Another dog seconded.

Strangely time seemed to spare his response. "Apologies. I happen to be going in the opposite flow."

A teen and a pack of dogs stood in a black hallway. Icarus faced golden light at one end. The dogs faced the dark infinity he ran from. But the marble in the distance grew ever so larger and caught his attention.

"This way is good! We're sure!" Tongue stuck out, panting, and a tail waving, the dogs remained oblivious.

The direction Icarus came from...

"Yus!" The same dog agreed.

There was an unfelt current in the still air of the void. The marble grew not to be a simple bauble, but a massive planet with an eye--- an eternally raging storm that stared straight at him.

As Icarus motioned to simply leave, a toy poodle bit his ankle at the slightest hint of his decline.

The storm approached.

"Such a child," the chiding voice of one of his brothers.

Icarus stood as an adult wearing the brunet guise used in public. Though in truth he stood at the same height as the rest of his brothers, their silhouettes and that of the peers of Eos towered like titans eclipsing the sky of storms and looked down upon him.

Crossed arms, a pensive upward stare that bordered on a glare, he listened to the unignorable remark that were ever present as the winds.

"Hasn't even reached his third decade of life yet, has he?" his subordinates, men with long silver hair, spoke among one another.

"I'm cautious about his position as Chief of Information."

"It's a position that demands experience, indeed."

A hand laid on his shoulder, and he turned.

Before his eyes was himself as a blond in regular fashion within Eos--- though one half of his bangs was long and combed back and the other half worn differently.

Icarus gave a doubtful look. "Who are you?"

Jarringly, not of his own voice, but Iason's, "Who you are supposed to be."

Icarus awoke and rose slowly, head ducked, with two fingers holding the nose bridge between his eyes. Wordlessly, he suffered an impure mix of regret, consolation, and an old failure.


	7. Intermission

When he was on duty, the Chief of Espionage wore a black uniform with gold trims and embroidery designed to signify his military role. If he wore a cloak, the trims would similarly be gold, but the interiors red. To contrast, the Chief of Information wore white with pragmatic decorations that at most traced the general contour of the body. The minor colors of his uniform appeared in partitions, in descending size, of black, grey, lavender and blue. Historically, the Chief of Espionage and the Chief of Information held a long unfriendly, at times uncooperative, but never hostile or obtrusive rivalry. Only until recent times, could the two be considered mutual friends.

Night time in the Apex Level lobby, Gideon saw Silbert as a brunet wearing clothing befitting to civilians in Midas and a reflective visor that blocked all ambient facial recognition scans. It was rare for Silbert to interact with the public in the slightest.

"Silbert, where are you going?" Gideon asked, visibly perturbed.

Deadpan as usual, Silbert replied as he passed by, "A small drive requested by Icarus. The collateral damage to your city will be kept to a minimal, I'm sure."

Silbert met up with the teen who stood shorter than a fully heightened Blondie, but as tall as the average adult in Midas, and was waiting at the entrance to the aerocar hangar. As Silbert drove to the requested destination, Midas thinned to the outer city. He stopped the car at the coordinates where a single building stood in the vast darkness of night, from which only distant city lights twinkled. He had a slight initial suspicion, but all this way was only to ask a single question.

"Silbert, what if I told you the procedure makes me nervous?"

Upon that question, something shook him like the boom of a loud volume--- he couldn't quite figure out why and drew blanks when asking himself for an explanation. With an indifference to the sound, Silbert gave an objective answer, self-admittedly with a shred of sympathy.

"Don't be a public figure if you don't have to be."

Shortly after the wordless responses, Silbert turned his head from hearing a faint tap from Icarus' shoes on pavement, to which the teen returned a sheepish look.

Small words of advice or simple passing influence to a juvenile being like a coin tossed to a pauper, in the present time, there was Icarus making final adjustments to the shorter hairstyle of the brunet guise to publicly travel in.

Visiting in the morning, Silbert silently lounged with arms and legs crossed observing and parsing every possibility of Icarus' intents and purposes.

Entertaining his guest with a conversation topic, Icarus remotely turned on the hologram at the table in front of the couch Silbert sat on. The screen displayed an online catalog of blue aerocars.

"What do you think, Silbert, should I get a new aerocar? All the ones I have are older than I am," Icarus lightly joked.

"I don't believe there is a point to that nor is it the crux of the matter."

Optimal aerocar designs, for every metric and permutations of, that complied with safety regulations have already been engineered for the past hundred years. Even a simple response from Silbert had a piercingly accurate sting to them.

"What do you suspect?"

"Why are you employing that guise?"

"A short investor relations meeting in Midas, I have a separate identity for use in Midas."

"For all the gossip you stir for your very existence, I'm surprised you've kept quite a low profile in Midas."

"I suppose that's par for the course," Icarus gave a slight smile.


	8. The World's Eyes and Ears II

On Amoi, every computing device in one way or another was beholden to Jupiter. Each device, a nerve and every network connection, a synapse--- for every human that interfaced with their personal electronics, broadcasting their thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams, there was also the machine that reported raw data and aggregated analysis.

To see from millions of eyes.

To hear the paradigms of the people, from the trends to the obscure recesses.

The digital omniscience was a conscious experience that was beyond human, but neither entirely machine.

As Chief of Information, Icarus had a share in Her collective consciousness and will. Co-reigning the domain of computing, he had an authority over information. What the populace knew and will never know about shaped their beliefs in which they acted upon.

Reclining on a terminal, eyes closed, with an established neural connection and every bit of focus diverted to incoming data streams, Icarus had a clear view of Midas on varying perspectives.

From a high resolution street camera, a young delinquent harassed a well-dressed android civilian on an empty sidewalk.

"Hey tin can, even a fridge magnet can tell where you is," the delinquent taunted.

He attempted to shove the android civilian. But the metal man--- issuing no movement, deeming the fledgling human no threat--- was too heavy to move.

In retaliation, the android only gave a one armed shove, which knocked the delinquent entirely off his feet, and walked away.

From a store's security camera, a group of tourists excitedly discussed entertainment media amongst one other.

Another camera positioned at the supermarket, coincidentally, there was Rye with a satchel shopping for groceries in the canned food isle. Icarus wouldn't have paid much mind, but what caught his attention was that a girl had made her approach. She gave a slight standing lean towards and they appeared to be speaking.

Icarus decided to look into this a bit further.

* * *

Rye walked in the grocery store. "All the damn food in the condo's older than I am," he sighed.

Though still edible, it went against modern common sense to eat food held in stasis for too long. Too much could have happened between a large span of time.

Rye knew Midas had the good shit. The front isle was stocked with prepared meals--- sliced fruit, packaged sandwiches, and seasoned meat. Understandably, those were more expensive, but when he went further back for the more austere options something earned his surprised observation.

The same prices as the provisions in Ceres...

Rye shrugged. "Guess that makes life easier," he grabbed a can and read the labels on the back.

"Hi!" A chipper female voice said behind him.

Rye turned and slightly jumped.

There was a girl in around his age, leaning forward with an innocent and curious look. She had long orange hair with hints of red and pink colored like chemical fire, but layers of hair like a waterfall of silk. An actual girl out and about like a rare sighting now standing in front of him--- Rye didn't quite know how to respond.

"G'day," she smiled. She had an energetic sway in her stance as she idled.

"Uh, hi."

"Is that your real hair color?"

"Yeah," Rye dodged eye contact for a second. _What am I really getting into with that answer..._

She tilted her head. "How come I've never seen you before?"

_Shit._

"I mean, you're not a tourist or whatever. We should've at least seen each other in primary."

Rumor around the slums had it that the citizens of Midas as children were personally raised by an adult or two, but he wasn't going to place his bet pretending in front of a real deal.

"Guess. I'm from a different batch," Rye held the back of his head with one hand.

The girl's head ducked back. A suspicious tone contrary to the one she used throughout the conversation, "I see." As if her curiosity and any interest at all dropped to immediate disgust, she quickly turned and left.

"Should've just said I colored it," he muttered.

...

 _Why did I pay so much attention to this?_ Even when connected to the neural interface, Icarus could feel his own face twitch.

Just as, another data stream caught his notice. On Midas' public records was a familiar set of biometrics with a detainment record. Icarus made local copies of all relevant documents and ended his session at the terminal.

Later.

"I need these biometrics taken off public record," Icarus, at Gideon's office, handed over a data slate.

Gideon, reviewing the documents it contained, rose a brow then a smug smirk. "I can arrange that, but you must first do me a favor."

"What is it?"

"Bring your Pet to Eos," Gideon's usual affable tone dropped to a stern command as he set the slate on the desk.

Icarus lowered his eyelids, "I am allowed to own property outside of Tanagura."

"I'm allowed to decline this request."

Icarus grew a slight one-sided frown. "I'll consider it."

* * *

Rye sat at a bench with his satchel and snacked on an offworld imported fruit.

The noon of Midas that was sparsely populated and only by tourists, a work day--- Rye considered getting himself legitimate work. Maybe a new life to put his past behind him, but getting his foot in the door proved difficult as most applications, despite him being a native of the planet with an ID, also asked for his birthplace.

"What am I going to do in Midas," he tossed the fruit core to the trash can.

With another look around, he saw Katze down the street at an outdoor table at a café. Just finishing his cup, Katze got up to face a nearby car parked on the curb.

Rye ran to catch up. "Hey, Katze."

"Not now, and certainly not here," Katze shoved Rye away before getting in the car.

Rye picked up and read the business card that had been placed against on his chest. _This must be his office in Midas..._

The car shortly after drove away.

The early afternoon in Eos, Raoul entered in one of the lounges with Orphe. Idling was Icarus who appeared impassively distraught.

"Icarus, is there trouble?" Raoul sat next and asked.

"Gideon."

"It's because you keep a Pet in Midas, isn't it?" Orphe said with one hand on hip.

"A private matter that shouldn't be of interest to others."

Orphe gave a blow of air to defuse his unease. "You must understand Midas is his responsibility. The reports there state infrastructural failure as the cause of Harvey's destruction and Iason's misfortune. As far as the others know, stabling a Pet in Apatia bears an omen of death."

"Is that so? The reports on the matter as a whole are extremely limited."

"Consult the former Chief of Information regarding that."

Icarus turned to Raoul who did not return eye contact and appeared thoroughly disinclined to elaborate on the matter in any context.

"If it was assassination, I understand I inherit the same threat," Icarus raised a brow, "but it seems improbable for the same events to occur again."

"I offer you this, if you bring your Pet to Eos, I won't obligate you to debut its appearance."

Icarus blinked as though his eyes had a flicker of surprise. "I'll consider it. Thank you, Orpheus."

After Icarus left, Raoul turned to Orphe. "Not something I'd expect from you."

"Don't call it a negotiation."

* * *

Late afternoon of dimming starlight at a vicinity near Katze's warehouse.

"You're still looking for jobs even when you're in Apatia of all places?" Katze held a lit cigarette. A dry question hinted with disbelief, but knowing Katze, there's always a degree of desynchronization between his expression and actual thoughts.

"Not like I'm getting anything to do in Midas."

"Try doing what anyone else does when they get too much money."

"Yeah. Helpful," Rye returned sass, "I just live there. I'm not loaded."

"You're one clueless guy in a high place. Who'd hire a courier that's tagged?"

"Tagged?"

"You've had a run-in with the police the other day, didn't you?" Katze said with a blow of smoke.

"That's not a run-in. They thought I killed a guy at the border."

"Even if you arm yourself again, you'd show up on the sensors. Maybe if you were a pilot, I could hook you up."

"I can take this thing off anytime," Rye removed the ring on his hand in demonstration.

Katze recognized the model. His face didn't change in the slightest, but the tip of his cigarette dipped as if it were caught before it dropped from his mouth. "I still don't have anything for the time being," Katze turned his back.

Rye sighed as he could tell the conversation was ending.

"Pop open a bottle of champagne. Waste yourself on hologames. Hire a bitch, or a stud if that's still your choice. It's what people in Midas do for fun, but considering your situation, latter most options aren't actually a choice," Katze said with a smile.

Rye silently scoffed. _As if I got time to waste on that shit._

As Rye parted ways with Katze, he took out one of the data slates from his satchel, the older model which had an encyclopedia of botany on it.

"Botany?" Rye shrugged. "Guess I'll check out the Arboretum. That'll be something to do for tonight."

* * *

Not too far away from his position, in Area-4 was the Arboretum. Walking his way there, the false daylight of city lights faded to a true night. An oasis among the metal, glass, and concrete cityscape--- in the evenings, the gardens were bereft of human beings. Tourists, sightseers, and citizens found their entertainment in many of the competing enterprises and attractions. Though the only light other than the twin moons were from Rye's personal data slate; in truth, the menagerie was an artificial ecosystem maintained by automated systems. Should the operations cease, Amoi's true nature withers all life.

Walking down the paths, Rye passed by a figure leaned on a tree. Calling to him with a heavy accent from the slums, "Yo, how's it hanging in the high life?"

"What?" Rye turned and saw the stranger make an approach.

"No shame, my man. Ain't no hiding that."

 _It's my clothes, isn't it?_ Rye held an annoyed frown and wasn't buying the obvious act. "What do you want?"

"Fifty karo."

"No chance, pal."

"City eyes ain't got your back here. All we're asking is you share a lil' of that wealth." The figure stepped out of the shadows and pointed to a set of jammers on his belt. "So you can go on hollering for the polices on that fancy slate, it don't make no difference.

"But I tells ya what. You earn yourself some good karma"--- the figure flicked on a laser knife--- "and you can go back to colorin' yer hair and raising ass for daddy back at Apatia."

"Fuck off punk, you ain't got shit on me," Rye returned an accent that he hardly used himself. He turned and wove off with a middle finger raised.

"Bitch, you gonna give or you gonna bleed."

The figure lunged at Rye with the knife hand forward. But Rye shifted low and caught the knife hand at the forearm. Back of the captive elbow pivoted at his shoulder, with a reuse of momentum, he threw his assailant over resulting in an audible crack.

"Nice knife, punk," Rye picked up the dropped knife and tossed it back into the nearby pond. "Too bad you ain't selling it to fix that arm."

"Fuck you," the failed mugger got back up with a headbutt aiming at Rye's torso.

Rye easily dodged, but just as, a bat hit the side of his head.

* * *

Icarus walked his way back to his office. "An omen of death," he skeptically mused. "All I have to do is ensure all infrastructural systems are fully operational."

But it all couldn't have been that simple--- the chance of foreign sabotage and assassination was still present as was kidnapping and ransom. Entering the office, he reclined into the terminal and established the neural connection again.

At another place and another time, Rye woke still feeling aftermath of the impact. Judging from the distance of Midas' outer city, he was near the border, and in front of an unmaintained descending tunnel entrance built around a time before Midas actively receded itself from Ceres.

"His cash card's got shit all," a Cereian shouted in disbelief. Rye's recent luxury didn't change his budgeting.

"Fuck and he fried my knife too," another added.

Rye motioned to get up.

"He's up. Get him!" Two teens in his age group pinned him down.

_Great. It's never just one of these punks at a time in the slums._

"Auth your cash card, or we're making you cross," the one left standing, with a broken arm, threatened.

"Cross what?" Rye harshly replied.

"Into Ceres, retard. How fucked up is you?"

"Try me, you fucks."

"Yo, hardass wants to die," one of the delinquents pinning him down said.

Rye was lifted and tossed in the building and past the invisible thin line that would officially mark on all computing systems where Midas ended and Ceres began. After falling down the set of stairs just behind the building entrance, he got up again.

Running back to catch the punks with his stuff, just as he caught line of sight with the top of the stairs, a blinding light flashed.

Before the gang of three Cereians, there was a row of Midas heavies, officers and vehicles. All units equipped with deceptively thin armor, black uniforms, and faceless visors. Bordering on a military squad, these officers gave no hint whether they were android or human. Arranged in a firing line with weapons unholstered, at the ready and aimed, Rye ducked back under the stairs and covered his ears.

As if it were their cue and with a precise to the millisecond response, they fired.

When the booms of gunfire stopped, Rye stared awestruck at the strewn pile of corpses. _We really are less than vermin to them. This has to be overkill._

In the distance, a civilian aerocar had landed. A tall brunet wearing a visor, the same one that walked the red carpet, arrived to the scene stopped by officers. The brunet seemed to clarify something with them, in which they've aptly responded with a salute, allowed him through, and dismissed themselves.

The brunet walked over to Rye and said, "Let's go."

 _What the? That voice?_ "Huh?"

Icarus removed his visor. "Get your bag. We'll be going to Eos to check for a head injury. Afterwards, you'll have a stay there considering your luck in Midas."

Rye had a frown that jolted sideways; admittedly, he had the luck of a black cat that only inflicted misfortune upon himself. But Eos, one of the tallest skyscrapers of Amoi that stood far above any building in Midas and right where the androids resided, isn't that an even higher living standard than any kind of penalty?

After picking his stuff up, he sat in the front passenger seat, Icarus at the dashboard. The car rotated as it rose from the ground and slowly oriented itself straight towards the sky, which caused Rye to nervously brace himself to the seat.

"Uh. Not something I ride in everyday," he said ending in a nervous laugh.

Icarus turned semi-surprised and gave a shrug.

The car then launched upwards to a target altitude then swerved to align itself with the traffic lanes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read one of the side stories for Ank taking place after Riki is taken back to Eos. To summarize, Iason gives Riki an encyclopedia of botany (to help with boredom in Eos) and Riki finds a flower in the Botanical Gardens that blooms once every three years at night time. Then they go out together to watch it bloom. Turns out Blondies also have super night vision.
> 
> Hence Riki's old data slate, Rye now carrying around, has the encyclopedia that leads him to the Arboreteum.
> 
> Part 3 has a draft, but it's going through self-critique, adjustment, and finalization. When it came to writing the draft for Part 3, it was twice as long as the first draft for Part 2. It'll take a while for it be finished.


End file.
